


Do it with a will

by CrypticSighs



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticSighs/pseuds/CrypticSighs
Summary: Merry Christmas fellow Gerri/Roman shippers.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	Do it with a will

**Author's Note:**

> All I want for Christmas is an entire 8-10 episode season of just Gerri/Roman scenes. A girl can but dream.

Roman checks his inside pocket for the hundredth time as he strolls towards Gerri’s office. He straightens his jacket, turning his head every which way to make sure everyone else on their floor has left. Every office is pitch black or desk deserted except his and Gerri’s. He stops briefly when he reaches the glass of her office walls. Watches her with her head leaning on one hand as she furiously writes with the other. He can see her discarded heels under the desk, thanks the powers that be that his call with Japan ended before she’d left. He’s already been kicking himself for leaving this as late as he has.

He pushes the door without knocking. “Burning the midnight oil?” he asks, leaning against the open door.

“Well someone has to,” Gerri responds, not looking up from the paperwork she’s trying to read.

“You are aware that it is, in fact, Christmas Eve?” he says sarcastically. “You know, the day preceding the birthday of our Lord and Saviour?”

“I seem to recall your father’s birthday being in August,” she retorts, jotting down more notes.

Roman shakes his head as he laughs. Taking her joke as an invitation to enter, he steps fully into the room. The door closing slowly behind him, he stops in front of her desk. Her finger follows her eyes across the page as she just continues reading.

“So have you been a good girl this year?” he ventures, smiling innocently.

Her finger halts in its movements. She lifts her head slightly, stares at him over the rim of her glasses. His palms start itching when she smirks knowingly at him.

“No comment,” she answers coolly, placing her pen down on the paper. “Are you here to warn me that Santa doesn’t deliver to corporate offices?” She rests her clasped hands on her desk, tilts her head curiously at him.

“I imagine you have such a tight grasp on his dick that Santa will deliver to you wherever the hell you are.”

Gerri smiles at him, moving to lean back in her chair. Her eyes stalk him as he walks over to the window, stares at the city he’s been playing in his entire life. A recurring thought suddenly flags up again in his brain.

“What do you actually do for Christmas?” he asks, still facing the window. “You’re always with us for Thanksgiving and the big ball drop, but never Christmas.”

“Am I not allowed one day of peace?” she counters.

“Sure but do you actually get it?” he probes, turning to face her again. “Peace from us, obviously. But in general?”

He doesn’t know why he’s so curious except that he only recently registered her consistent absence on Christmas Day. She never discusses what she gets up to in her extremely limited time away from all the Waystar drama, at least not with him. Whenever they have their special conference calls, he always tries to picture what she might be doing while he waits for her to answer. He wonders if his fantasies are remotely close to the reality.

“It’s the one day of the year I could always guarantee to the girls,” she answers honestly. “I spend it with them.”

She doesn’t give any further details, hopes it clear that she wouldn’t even if he asked for them.

“You cook and everything?” he pushes. Tries to picture Gerri in the kitchen, tying on an apron and checking the turkey.

“What do you want, Roman?” she finally cracks. “Surely you didn’t come in here to ask what kind of stuffing I’ll be making tomorrow?”

He takes the hint, though now he is dying to know what flavour of stuffing she has at Christmas. He reaches for the deep blue box inside his jacket as he steps back over to the desk.

“Santa asked me to drop this off for you,” he says, slowly placing the Harry Winston jewellery box on the desk in front of her. “He’d appreciate it if you loosened your grip on his ‘little helper’ in return.”

Nothing moves except her eyes. She blinks rapidly at the box a few times before flicking her eyes up to Roman and back again. Her face remains completely stoic as she stands and reaches to pick up the gift. The only change in her expression is her mouth dropping open when she finally lifts the lid. The Lily Cluster diamond bangle bracelet inside is utterly exquisite and she can hardly breathe looking at it. 

Roman stuffs his hands into his pockets. Sweat slowly starts to drip down his back as the silence persists and his panic intensifies. He’s close to making a very ungraceful exit by sprinting from the room, straight to the elevator and out of the building to his chauffeur driven car, when Gerri eventually speaks.

“I didn’t get you anything,” she says quietly, regarding him with wide eyes.

“That’s fine, I didn’t expect you to,” he reassures, coughing to clear his dry throat. 

Relief rushes through him. He was taking a huge risk by presuming she would accept anything from him, regardless of its sincerity. He lives a life where even the biggest mistake has little or no consequences for him but the thought of fucking up his relationship with Gerri fills him with genuine fear. He straightens up, preparing to make the next risky move.

“Would you like to know what I’d want?” he baits, smiling at her.  
“I can only imagine,” she smiles in return, trying to recover herself. “What?”  
“A kiss.”  
“A kiss?”  
“One kiss. On the mouth. Me and you.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, impressed at his clearly planned boldness. However she has no desire to make it easy for him, isn’t sure he deserves it quite yet.

“You know this could be considered sexual harassment?” she points out nonchalantly.

“You could argue that I’m harassing you but there certainly won’t be any sex,” he argues. “That is, unless you take advantage of me. I am but a vulnerable young man, caught in your spell.”

“I don’t think you have anything to be worried about there,” she quips. “I prefer my men post pubescent.”

Roman rubs the back of his neck as he sniggers. The sheer force of her quick-witted comebacks could cause whiplash even in the most worthy of opponents. Nothing brings him more joy than trying to take her on, despite knowing he’ll never win.

“I was gonna break out some of those french kissing skills I perfected at military school but you don’t deserve them now,” he declares, still unable wipe the amusement from his face.

“So not just a kiss, but a french one?” Gerri queries smugly. “I’m not sure my unasked for gift is worth all the saliva sharing.”

“The way you’re still gripping the box suggests it is,” he counters, nodding at her hands.

Gerri stares back down at the present clenched in her hands. She lightly traces round the edge of the bracelet with her fingers, her heart quickening. She knows he chose it himself: it’s too well suited to her taste not to have been selected by someone who pays attention. And Roman pays her a great deal of attention.

“May I?” Roman asks, pointing to the box and breaking her reverie.

Gerri nods, returning it to him. She circles round to meet him in front of her desk as he gently removes the bracelet from its velvet lined packaging. She tugs the sleeve of her suit jacket up slightly before presenting her wrist. He holds her hand lightly after the bracelet is fastened on, beams brightly at how it sparkles against her pale skin before fixing his eyes on Gerri’s face.

“Stunning,” he gasps, admiring her awed expression.  
“It is beautiful, Rome,” she quietly agrees, staring down at her wrist.  
“I wasn’t referring to the gift,” he responds sincerely.

Her piercing blue eyes snap up to his meet his, realising his meaning. Her gaze flits to his mouth as he steps closer. He brings their clasped hands up to his chest as his other slowly glides across her cheek.

The kiss starts so slow, lips gently brushing against each other over and over. He’s terrified at first but that quickly dissipates when he feels how soft she is. Her skin, her hair, her lips; he could easily lose himself in her. He releases her hand to reach down and grab her waist, pulling her flush to him.

She sighs when his tongue slides along her bottom lip and into her open mouth. Her hand coming up to the back of his neck, she digs her nails into his skin as the kiss deepens. She can feel her lungs starting to burn at the need for air but she doesn’t want to stop just yet. Tightens her grasp on him instead, prolonging the inevitable.

Roman runs his hand up her ribs, stops just under her breast: doesn’t want to push his luck. She’s wearing the white button up blouse that he loves. He often sits in meetings imagining what it would be like to unfasten every button and leave her undone by the end of it. Instead he continues sliding his tongue against hers before sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

They finally part, foreheads leaning against each other as they gasp for air. He watches her eyes slowly open, admires the delightful pinkness of her flushed cheeks. Feels like his mind will explode when she smiles at him. He tries to capture her lips again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she proclaims, lightly placing her fingers over his lips. “One kiss.”

She chuckles at the exaggerated pout he dons in response, wipes the lipstick from around his mouth with her thumb.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad was it?” he declares airily.

She narrows her eyes at him before drifting back round to her vacant chair. “It’s reassuring to know all that money spent on your education didn’t completely go to waste,” she responds smoothly, resettling in her seat and picking up her abandoned pen.

“Your experience of kissing prepubescent boys at summer camp really shined through as well,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the door.

“I went to an all girls camp,” she announces flippantly, gaze glued to the paperwork again.

Roman’s hand completely misses the door handle he was reaching for, just foolishly grabs at the surrounding air.

“What?” he asks. His head snaps round to gawk at her, she doesn’t even glance at him.

“Merry Christmas, Roman,” she responds warmly, smiling down at her desk.

He shakes his head and grins, turns to pull the door open properly this time. Knows he won’t sleep tonight, his brain is already buzzing with imaginings of her possible summer camp escapades.

“Goodnight, Gerri,” he hollers happily. 

The door swings closed behind him as he glides back to his own office.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!


End file.
